When I first stepped into my role as Mother, I really believed in the ideal mom. I knew if I tried hard enough I could be all sweetness and light, kind and gentle, slow to anger and eternally loving. There were certain spoken and unspoken rules I had learned from society about mothering and now it was my turn to apply them. Society led me to believe I could be better than other mothers who had gone before me.
I built a pedestal out of my confidence and the “expert” child-rearing advice I’d read. Then, feeling highly competent, I took my place at the top.
It’s a Long Way to the Ground
I wish someone had told me about the dangers of pedestal thinking. If I’d been able to see into the future, I’d have climbed off before it was too late. But I stubbornly clung to my lofty notions of what the perfect mom would be.
“A real mom,” I said to myself, “would never relinquish the care of her baby to others. Only a mother can properly meet her baby’s needs.
“Real moms don’t yell at their kids.
“Real moms don’t resort to fits of temper.
“Real moms don’t have to spank their kids, because if children are brought up correctly, spankings are unnecessary.”
These were only a few of the beliefs that held my pedestal together.
It was only a matter of weeks, however, before I noticed a crack in my plaster base.
I Was a Baby Food Junkie
This isn’t easy to admit, but … I was a closet baby food eater—a real baby food junkie. I never bought a jar of baby food I wouldn’t eat myself. While other mothers might have simply touched it with their tongues to make certain it wasn’t too hot, I got hooked. For every bite that went into my kid, half went into me.
Oh, it started innocently enough. I mean, I had to show my kid the food was edible, didn’t I? When my firstborn was six months old I began to wean him off the breast onto some solid foods. I made all the usual “mom” noises.
“C’mon, sweetheart, eat your num-num.”
“Da!” David grinned and shook his head as he whopped the high-chair tray with his fist.
“It’s good, honey. See?” I put the spoon to my mouth for a taste so he could see I wasn’t trying to poison him.
“Mmmm.” I took another spoonful. Applesauce. “Mmmm! Hey, this stuff isn’t bad,” I said, taking a bigger spoonful. When he saw that I really did like it, he clamored for his share. I don’t think he was particularly happy with the way I divided our portions—one for him and one, two for me, but he couldn’t argue. I was his mom and I was bigger.
One day he threw a tantrum over my eating the whole jar of cherry vanilla pudding before offering him a bite. From that day on I knew I had to change my ways. I kept all the cherry vanilla for myself and ate it when he was asleep.
Fortunately, after Caryl, my second and last child, went to table food, I was forced to give up my habit.
The rest is history. One by one, my parenting theories disintegrated and my pedestal (with me on it) toppled to the ground. Let’s take a look at some of those shaky ideals right now.
Only a Mother …
Somewhere along the way I’d picked up the notion that only a mother is qualified to adequately supply the child’s needs. Mothers are the nurturers, the primary caregivers. Fathers and grandparents will do in a pinch. Babysitters are a last resort. No one can care for a child like a mother.
I believed that mothers somehow had that special something no one else had. A touch—the sound of mom’s voice was the only thing that could quiet a crying infant. Only mom can kiss an owie and make it feel better. I suppose in a sense that’s true.
You may be wondering what I’m getting at here. Of course mothers are special. Children need their mothers and we are responsible for their care. But they don’t need their mothers exclusively. In today’s busy world, mothers who believe this myth will end up feeling guilty and overworked. The plan here is not to downplay a mother’s worth, but to get fathers and other family members more involved in your child’s care.
I’ll be honest and tell you that I rather liked being the only one my babies came to for comfort. I took a certain amount of pride in the fact that I was the only person who could rock them to sleep. They depended on me. It does a mother’s heart good to feel that sense of power when baby cries as you walk away, or reaches up to you for comfort—when no one else will do.
At the same time I felt frustrated and overwrought at times because I didn’t want to carry the entire burden alone.
The only mom myth can be detrimental to moms and kids as well as to dads. It creates stress and eats into the valuable time every mother needs to recharge. It keeps men from developing their nurturing instincts and children from bonding with other people. We can’t afford to think that we are indispensable and that other people in our children’s lives are not really necessary. Believing that I’m the only one who can care for my child is really an unhealthy way of looking at parenting.
I remember when my daughter left her little one, Hannah, then six months old, with my husband and me for a weekend. Hannah cried for hours. It was her first time ever away from Mom and she didn’t like it one bit. Though she knew us and had on occasion even allowed us to hold her, she wanted Mom and no one else would do. By the end of the weekend she was fine and had come to accept us, but what a traumatic time it was for her and for us.
I don’t believe any of us was ever meant to be the sole caregiver. An old African saying states, “It takes a village to raise a child.” While bonding to Mom is essential to a child’s growth and development, it is also important that the child have bonds with other family members—especially Dad.
Don’t quote me on this, but frankly, I think the culprits who snowed mothers with the “only mothers” philosophy were fathers. Think about it. Maybe way back in the annals of time, perhaps even as far back as Adam, Father took one look at his tiny, wiggly little baby and said, “He’s so little. I’m so strong I might hurt the little tyke. Here, you take him.” Then a few days later, can’t you just picture Junior messing his diaper and Mom saying, “Dear, I’m up to my armpits in dirty dishes. Could you change the baby?”
Daddy takes one look at the mustardy ooze and gags. “Oh … ah, honey, I’m not so sure I should do this. My hands are so big and clumsy, I’m afraid I’ll stick him with a pin.”
Is it possible that men, filled with the fear of failure, and seeing a perfect cop-out, felt justified in handing the role of nurturer over to Mom?
On the other hand, maybe it was Mom who decided that the child’s father did not have the skills to take care of baby. Maybe we moms, enjoying the heady sensation of being the only person baby would come to, created the myth on our own. Women love to feel needed. Why wouldn’t a mother, even though she complains about the workload, be subconsciously pleased that only she can meet the needs of her baby?
Maybe the problem lies with both sides. The woman takes charge of child rearing because she has learned the art of nurturing and assumes it is her role. The man sees an opportunity to step aside, so he does. It is, after all, human nature to take the easy road.
Will the child be damaged if we allow others to occasionally do what we assume moms have always done? Probably not. In the book Mothering, Rudolph Schaffer writes, “There is nothing to indicate any biological need for an exclusive primary bond, nothing to suggest that mothering cannot be shared by several people.”[1]
Yes, our kids need their mommies. That’s as it should be, but they can benefit by being cared for by others as well. In many societies, men and women share the responsibility of caring for the children. For example, Wilfried Pelletier, in his book This Is a Book about Schools, writes, “In an Indian home, if a child’s face is dirty or his diaper is wet, he is picked up by anyone. The mother or father or whoever comes into the house… . And children are fed whenever they are hungry. They are never allowed to be in want.”[2]
Kids need a mom who will help them to develop socially by encouraging others to contribute to their care. Kids need a mom who is not so insecure and desperate for love, that she clings to the belief that only she can meet her child’s needs.
Make Room for Daddy[3]
“Isn’t she the most beautiful baby in the world?” Joy, pride, and wonder fill Ken as he holds his infant daughter for the first time. His father heart bursts with love. He longs to protect her, care for her, nurture her. He wants to do more than provide a paycheck and help out. He wants to be part of her life but hasn’t a clue how to accomplish it.
Most dads want to be involved in caring for baby, and many waver in uncertainty. Like so many men, Ken’s nurturing instincts were never encouraged, his fathering never explored. Men like Ken catered to the myth that caring for baby was Mom’s job.
Ken and his wife, Meg, stand at a crossroads faced by new moms and dads every day. Will they fall into the old routine with Mom taking over baby’s care and Dad fading into the background? Or will they bond as a family and share the role of parenting? Today, more and more fathers are ignoring stereotypes and are stepping in to do what for years has been considered a mother’s role—taking care of baby.
Here are some ways you can help the man in your life take over some of the parenting responsibilities. (For those of you who are single parents, consider getting a close friend or parent to assist in your child’s care.)
1. Ask him to share in the pregnancy. Intimacy and bonding begin before baby is born. Learn all you can about pregnancy and childbirth together. Have him go with you to all or at least some of the prenatal exams and plan to attend childbirth preparation classes together so he can empathize with you and assist in the delivery of your child.
2. Share intimate moments. Place his hand on your abdomen so he can feel the baby move. Have him listen to the heartbeat. Encourage him to talk to your baby so the sound of Dad’s voice becomes as familiar as Mom’s. Share openly your excitement, joy, concerns, and fears with him and encourage him to do the same. Finally, pray together for a healthy, happy child, a smooth delivery, and a loving partnership.
3. Before the baby comes, prepare for parenthood. Take a parenting class together. Read about babies and learn about their development. Ask questions. Hang around other people’s children to get some hands-on experience. Education can prevent feelings of insecurity and inadequacy.
4. Traditionally, friends and relatives shower Mom and baby with gifts, making pregnancy and childbirth a “wom-an’s” thing. Why not suggest a baby shower where both sexes are welcome?
5. When the baby arrives, encourage your husband to take some time off work if possible. Paternity leave is as important as maternity leave but not as easily accepted or granted.
6. Teach him to care for your newborn. Contrary to popular belief, with the exception of childbearing and breast-feeding, a dad can do anything for his baby that a mom can do. Dad can feed and burp your baby—and rock him to sleep. He can change her diapers—even the messy ones.
Even women who long for it may resist their husbands’ involvement. Moms may unknowingly become overprotective, bossy, and critical in an attempt to hold on to or maintain control as the primary caregiver. Again, talk about it, share your feelings, and work together toward the goals you both want. Your kids need a mom who knows how important dads are.
Realize How Important Dads Are[4]
“Daddy’s home!” Two-year-old Scotty scoots off his mother’s lap and attaches himself to his daddy’s legs. Bob sets down his briefcase, reaches down, and throws his little buddy in the air.
Scotty squeals with delight. “More, Daddy, more!”
Bob complies. Two, maybe three times before settling his son in his arms and greeting his wife, Pam, with a kiss.
Later Bob will read his son a bedtime story, say prayers, and tuck him in.
Bob takes his fathering responsibilities seriously. He works hard at being the best dad he can be. And that hasn’t been easy. “When we first learned that Pam was pregnant, I was thrilled and, at the same time, terrified. I never had a relationship with my dad,” Bob admitted. “He divorced my mother when I was five years old. I’d always sworn that when I had kids, I’d be a good father, but when I faced fatherhood for the first time, I had no idea what being a good father meant.”
Sadly, many men face fatherhood with similar feelings of fear and inadequacy. Perhaps one of the greatest gifts we moms can give our husbands, and in turn our children, is to help our husbands see how important they are to the little ones in their care.
“More than half of today’s children will spend at least part of childhood without a father.” When I read this accounting in U.S. News & World Report, I was not shocked or surprised by the statistics. I could only nod my head in affirmation.
Does it matter? Are fathers all that important? As long as a child has a loving mother, isn’t that enough? As a society we’re becoming painfully aware that no, it is not enough. Children need their daddies too. The article in U.S. News went on to say, “The absence of fathers is linked to most social nightmares—from boys with guns to girls with babies.” We’ve known for years that maternal deprivation can create serious physical and emotional problems in children. Now we’re seeing the effects of paternal deprivation. The world is full of children who suffer the effects of not being properly fathered. It is also full of adults who still feel those effects long after childhood has passed.
Dads Can Be Nurturers Too
Children need moms and dads who care for and nurture them. If you thought nurturing was a feminine trait, think again. To nurture is to care for, parent, sustain, rear, advance, cultivate, protect, develop, and train. We are all meant to have this Christ-like compassion and love and ability to nurture. It is not a feminine trait but a human trait.
Most dads instinctively want to nurture but waver in uncertainty. Some have no idea how. Their nurturing instincts were never encouraged, their fathering instincts never explored.
Although nurturing is instinctual in all of us, it must be en-abled, encouraged, and directed. If your husband didn’t learn this from his mom—well, guess what. You may need to help him along or teach him the basics. Or, you might enroll him in Parenting 101 at your local community college.
Control Yourself, You’re an Adult
Another kind of mythical thinking has come out of the numerous pop psychology books on the market. According to some experts, anger and other negative emotions must be held in check. Good mothers do not damage their children’s psyches by losing control.
For example, say seven-year-old Jack rides his skateboard in the house, trips, and smashes into your china cabinet, breaking several items. You must, as an in-control mother, say (calmly), “Dear, I am a little upset now. Please go outside while I clean this up. When I have had a chance to think it over, we will talk about a suitable punishment.”
A well-read, child-care-manual-junkie mother would never swat his bottom or grab the kid by the shoulders and shake him until his teeth rattled, while sputtering, “How many times have I told you not to ride that thing in the house? Now look what you’ve done!” Nor would she sit on the floor in the middle of the disaster and cry, “My china … some of it came from England on the Mayflower … it can’t be replaced,” then sob loudly.
This display of tears and anger might upset the child and cause him to feel remorseful. He might even become compassionate and try to console you. Of course, he is much too young to deal with such extreme emotional responses. We wouldn’t want him responding in anger and tears to the wrongs in this world when he grows up, would we?
While I can’t condone physical abuse such as teeth-rattling shakings, or beating, I realize that at times we parents mess up. Occasional spankings can be used as a way of punishment, and we should learn to control our emotions to some extent. I can’t, however, agree with the idea of total control of your emotions when dealing with children. There must be a natural balance or the child will get mixed messages.
George Bernard Shaw says it well in Maxims for Revolutionists: “The best brought-up children are those who have seen their parents as they are. Hypocrisy is not the parent’s first duty.”
In the same work, he writes, “If you strike a child, take care that you strike in anger … a blow in cold blood neither can nor should be forgiven.”[5]
Harsh words, but an interesting theory. I don’t like to think of striking a child at all. But there are times when spankings may be appropriate.
Let’s consider for a moment what Shaw is saying. How often have you read manuals in which you are told to wait until your anger passes before punishing the child? Later, the spanking may be administered if needed.
Have you ever tried to spank a child when you weren’t angry? I did—once. It was awful. I felt worse than I had at previous times when, in my spurt of emotion, I reacted in anger and smacked the kid’s bottom. In either case, I felt like a rotten mom. I’m not sure whether my guilt came more from striking my child in cold blood or failing to do the “right thing” according to the book.
I just had a thought. Remember when Jesus became righ-teously angry in the temple? Did He calm down before exacting punishment? Did He compose Himself first, then throw the money changers from the temple? He was angry. He acted in the heat of His anger. Yet, Jesus knew exactly what He was doing.
I guess the point I’m trying to make here is that it’s okay to use your own judgment. Be honest in the way you release your emotions and dispense punishment. Yes, we must learn a healthy amount of self-control. But most of us do not become violent and abusive when dealing with a child. If you have a problem in that area, you need professional help.
Finally, I would encourage you to be honest with another emotion as well. Be understanding enough to say “I’m sorry” if you find you overreacted or acted in error.
Children Are Not Naughty; Actions Are Naughty
Another ideal theory for parents goes something like this: “I must not attack the child, only the action.” For example, a “good” mother would say (calmly), “Darling, I know how much you like snakes, and although boa constrictors make lovely pets, it disturbs me that you’ve chosen to adorn our home with one.”
One should refrain from screaming, “Get that snake out of this house before I call pest control to get rid of both of you!”
Perhaps you’re wondering why I placed these child-rearing theories in the mythical-thinking category. After all, they are valid and should be incorporated into child rearing whenever possible. While neither of these theories is wrong, life just isn’t quite that simple. The theories leave little room for honest emotion.
No matter how hard we try to live by the rules the experts have laid down for us, we will at times let our emotions rule. Then, not only do we feel guilty for losing control, but we also feel like kids caught playing hooky from school because we failed to follow orders.
What so many of the experts fail to tell us is that, while we can benefit from their advice, it’s practically impossible to parent strictly by the book(s)—especially when your kids haven’t read them.
Only Animals Have Instincts?
Somewhere along the line child psychologists must have decided mothers had about as much common sense as God gave a goose. Experts have given us detailed and diagrammed advice on everything, including which end of the baby to diaper.
Mothers are born with instincts for child care, but many of us are so confused with conflicting advice we’re afraid to feed the baby without consulting the book.
This is not a suggestion to ban child-rearing books. There is nothing wrong with bringing up baby by the book, providing you use a different book for each child.
Seriously, books that explain how babies grow can be very helpful in answering questions you have about your growing child. In the back of this book, you’ll find a reading list of other helpful publications.
My concern is that you not become so confused in the “ought to’s” of child rearing that you lose all sense of direction. I’ve known moms who became so full of conflicting information they didn’t know which way to turn, so they actually abandoned their children.
Others ignore the problem. And who could blame a mom for letting the kids run wild? I mean, once you start wading through the options, you could end up drowning. The secret is to glean information you can use and to value your own opinion.
Don’t be afraid to use maternal instincts in bringing up your children. More often than not, your own instincts are right and should be used. After all—stop me if I’m wrong—didn’t God create those instincts (or spiritual discernments) in us?
Real Mothers Don’t Get Sick
There is one hard, fast rule in motherhood. Moms cannot be sick. There is no time. And if you did get sick, no one would be able to take care of you, and finally, your kids won’t let you get sick.
But don’t take my word for it. My friend Ellen had an infected tooth. She was spacey from the pain pills that were doing nothing to relieve her agony. She needed rest. In desperation she decided she had to lie down for a while and left her baby and three-year-old, Erin, in the care of her eleven-year-old son, Ted.
Unfortunately, Erin believed in the old adage that real moms don’t get sick and bounced around on Mom’s bed wanting to play.
Finally Ted, in all his wisdom, pulled the errant child away and said, “Knock it off, Erin. Let Mommy rest so we can have our real mom back.”
I rest my case.
To Dream the Impossible Dream
The final parenting myth I’d like to deal with here is one that ground my pedestal to dust. I once believed it was possible, with the right combination of love, discipline, and home atmosphere, to rear the ideal child.
As my children grew, I adopted the idea that they couldn’t possibly get into serious trouble. Oh, yes, they were entirely capable of mischief, but nothing more serious. Although I didn’t go around waving a banner, I proudly stood firm on the belief that “my kids would never …”
One day as I drove past a neighbor’s on my way home, I spotted a fire truck. Making my way through the commotion, I noticed there had been a fire in the mailbox.
When I got home, I mentioned what I had seen to the kids. “The neighbor said some kids set it. Probably a prank. Honestly,” I continued to rave, “I can’t imagine what’s gotten into kids these days. How could anyone let their kids be so destructive?”
Caryl nodded in agreement.
David said, “Yeah, that was a pretty stupid thing to do.”
A couple of days later I’d forgotten the incident. But the police hadn’t. What they turned up sent what little there was left of my ideal-parent facade packing.
“The police were by today,” I told my son when he arrived home from school. “Seems as though one of your friends admitted to the mailbox fire. Seems you were with him.”
“Yeah. We did it,” Dave admitted, “but we didn’t mean for the mailbox to catch fire. Sherri was acting like a stuck-up brat. We just threw a firecracker in the box to scare her.”
“Let me get this straight. Sherri wouldn’t pay any attention to you so you set fire to her parents’ mailbox?”
“No, we didn’t mean for it to catch fire. How were we supposed to know there was a newspaper inside?”
The boys got off with a couple hours of hard labor. They had to repair the mailbox and listen to a lengthy dissertation on the dangers of fire and the seriousness of tampering with mailboxes.
I couldn’t look my neighbors in the eye for months. I was too busy sweeping the dust from my ideal-parenting pedestal under the carpet.
Like Don Quixote, I had sung the song and held tight to my impossible dream, only to have it turn into a nightmare. It took years before I realized that the American Dream of motherhood and winning the “ideal parent” award was a fairy tale.
I had learned the hard way that real moms do eat baby food and real moms lose control sometimes. Real moms don’t play games and pretend to have all the answers.
Before we leave fantasyland, I have one more mythical mom I’d like you to meet. She is all things to all people. She is the superheroine of our time. She is Super Mom.
In the next chapter we’ll examine some of the occupational hazards of being a Super Mom, such as the rising cost of flight insurance, or watching your cape disintegrate as you burn out, and worst of all, letting the kids borrow your costume.